


On The Way Back Home

by AniPendragon



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Canon Compliant, Episode continuation, Family, Gen, Umbara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniPendragon/pseuds/AniPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Umbara, Dogma's fate is uncertain to all but Rex. In the back of a vessel, alone but for their thoughts, Rex and Dogma find solace in their brotherhood and uncertain fears in their actions. They know what was right and what was wrong. But what comes next is another story altogether.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Way Back Home

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately following the Umbara Arc. The Umbara Arc was my favourite series of episodes in all of The Clone Wars, and the aftermath of Dogma is something I've always been curious about. This fic strives to answer some of the questions I had.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated.

" _Good soldiers follow orders."_

The ride back to the ship was silent. Men too caught up in the uncertainty of their existence and the uncertainty of their superiors littered the transport vessels, leaving them thrumming with a nervous and sickening energy. It turned Rex's stomach to watch. Instead, he hid in the back compartment of a vessel, where Dogma was being held.

The room was tight for three men. Both Dogma's guard and restraints were pulled tight enough to hurt; the stifling pressure leaving the room filled with fear and loathing, and Dogma staring blankly at his feet.

There were no words to express Rex's feelings toward Dogma at that moment, but there were a few that came close. Gratitude, maybe, for doing what he could not and wiping Krell out of the galaxy. Fear, definitely, for what would become of Dogma when they reached the cruiser. Shame, of course, for being a coward and not shooting Krell when he had the chance.

And anger, oh so much anger, but not just toward Dogma. Toward himself, for allowing Krell to push him around as much as he did. Toward Dogma, for trusting Krell even more blindly than Rex had. Toward Krell, for all the disgusting things he'd done. And toward the Jedi – and General Skywalker – for never noticing how disgusting and horrible Krell was.

Rex clenched his hands into tight fists, feeling the cracks in his armour as he bore down on his palms with covered nails. None of this was _right_ ; none of this was _fair._ Dogma would be taken away for doing what Rex believed was the right thing. Krell couldn't be allowed to continue. Krell would have said they were too stupid and just misinterpreted the orders. He would have gotten away with it.

And he had called them _droids._

"We're not droids," murmured Rex.

"We're men," said Dogma. Rex glanced up at Dogma to find the fellow soldier watching him with soft eyes. In this light, his eyes were a much darker brown than Rex's own and the effect left him looking forlorn and childish.

The guard watching Dogma glanced between the two. Even with his bucket on, Rex could see the man's skittishness.

"Sir?" he said, and his voice was pitched higher than it should have been.

Rex waved him off. "Go rest, I'll watch him." The guard – Rex believed it was Rook – glanced between them, frowning. But he left, following orders like any good soldier.

Rex and Dogma were silent for a few long moments. Only the sound of other soldiers, beyond the barrier, could be heard. Quiet murmurs of comfort and fear, the heavy breathing of a few soldiers close to tears. The silence where Rex knew some soldiers were thinking of Waxer and of all the other dead brothers at their hands.

"None of this should have happened," said Rex, leaning his head back. The cool of the metal behind him seeped into his skull and down his neck, chilling his body until it seemed he and the transport were one.

"No, sir," agreed Dogma. "None of it." And they both knew what the other was talking about. Not Krell, not the battles, but what had isolated Dogma to begin with.

Rex watched Dogma for several minutes, his gaze sweeping the soldier that was no longer a rookie. No longer innocent or perfectly content with the GAR or the Republic. Rex had seen the jaded look on many soldiers, but Dogma wore something else entirely – fear. Fear and confusion and uncertainty that painted his face and his body language and left him looking more and more like a child than a soldier (but weren't they all children anyway?).

"Do you know what will happen to me, Captain?" asked Dogma. The tightness of his voice and the tightness of the lines around his mouth betrayed the depths of the fear Dogma already wore. It sank to the core of his very being, leaving him scarred and bared wide to anyone who dared to look too deep. And Rex had never been good at looking away.

"Yeah," said Rex. And if his voice was a little hoarser than it should have been, who was there to tell him?

"It's not good, is it, sir?" Dogma spoke as though he already knew the answer and was desperate for someone to tell him he was wrong.

Rex sighed and scrubbed a gloved hand across his stubble-laden face. "No."

Dogma let out a sound that could have been a laugh or a sob – and wasn't it telling that Rex couldn't find the difference? – and bowed his head. His hands fiddled together, bare and unmarked but stained with blood that only those who had been on Umbara would see. That only those who knew about Dogma and Krell and all that had happened there would see.

But Rex knew, just as he knew what awaited Dogma, that soon every member of the GAR would see that blood, no matter if they ever met Dogma (though that chance grew less and less likely the closer they got to the transport). That the GAR would wonder, both aloud and in individual minds, what had possessed Dogma to do such a thing. That no matter where Rex went there would be questions and questioning eyes. Not just from his brothers but also the Jedi. And what the hell was he supposed to tell them? Assuming they cared at all.

And Rex knew, try as he might to forget it, that this was his fault. That if he'd had the courage to shoot Krell, Dogma wouldn't be in this position. That Dogma wouldn't be headed back to Kamino. That Dogma would see another battle, instead of seeing white lights and uncaring droids for what little of his life remained. And it didn't matter that Rex knew Dogma's fate would have awaited him instead. It didn't matter that neither General Skywalker nor General Kenobi could have saved him. All that mattered was that Dogma would be free and the generals would have _tried_. They cared. Krell did not.

And wasn't that what it had come down to? Rex being used to being treated like a person instead of a flesh droid? Krell had been wrong. Rex knew that. But was he too compliant with the way General Skywalker and Commander Tano treated him?

"I'm sorry." The words were from Dogma – a murmur that Rex only barely caught.

He frowned. "Why?" The words came out harsher than intended, leaving Rex cringing inwardly against his own quick defenses.

Dogma, to his credit, just looked away before he said, "This is my fault. If I hadn't been so gung-ho about trusting the General, this never would have happened."

Rex was silent for a moment, and then he began to laugh. His shoulders slumped and he leaned completely against the wall, shuddering from how hard the desperate laugher burst from his lips.

"Sir?"

"Good soldiers follow orders, Dogma," said Rex, managing to contain his laughter. "It's what we're trained to do." The bitterness in Rex's voice surprised him.

"Then why did I kill him?" shouted Dogma. His eyes were wide and wild, as desperate as the man behind him. "He was going to kill us. He told us to stand down. He told us to kill each other! To kill ourselves!" A choked off sob destroyed the rest of the thought. "Sir, people are dead because of me. _Brothers_ are dead. Because. Of me." Dogma shook his head, tears streaking down his face. "I can't deny that. I can't face. I can't…" He shook his head, shoulders shaking and lungs gasping desperately for air. "I can't live with that."

Rex blinked back sudden tears of his own, forcing his expression to stay sympathetic as opposed to breaking down like Dogma. He shifted forward and placed a hand of Dogma's shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

"Once we arrive on that cruiser, you won't see any of us. Not now, not ever again," said Rex hoarsely. "Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir."

Rex grabbed Dogma's other shoulder and held him still so that Rex could look his brother in the eye.

"What you did saved us all. What you did is something not even I could bring myself to do. You are going to die. And that is no one's fault but my own. Do you understand?"

Dogma blinked as tears slipped down his face and splattered on his lap. He looked like he was going to protest, but instead said, "Yes, sir."

"You are a _hero_. And so long as I have breath in my lungs, I will ensure that every kriffing brother knows that you are a hero, Dogma." The words were as desperate as the look in Dogma's eyes, but Rex swore then and there that he meant every single one of them. "Do you understand?"

Dogma let out a sob and hugged Rex tightly. "Yes, sir," he murmured into the man's shoulder.

Rex clung to Dogma just as tightly and desperately as his brother did to him. The two were silent but for Dogma's ragged breathing.

In less than an hour, Dogma would be gone. But Rex would never let himself forget what the man had done, and what he, Dogma's captain, could not bring himself to do.

And he knew, now more than ever, that he would never forget about Umbara or Dogma. Nor would he ever forgive the Council for what had happened there.

" _Good men make their own."_


End file.
